


Unable to Go Quietly

by spn-x-reader (delphoxdork)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Mark of Cain, Mentions of Suicide, Sad Dean, be warned, lots of mentions, supernatural verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphoxdork/pseuds/spn-x-reader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans have a luxury that Dean Winchester no longer has. And it's the ultimate out. The only thing Dean wants is to die when the last thing he can do is just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unable to Go Quietly

Most nights Dean thought about how he wish he were dead. He wished that the God who didn't care anymore would send down a lighting bolt that pierced his heart until nothing remained but ash and dust. But that was just the thing. God  _didn't_ care. 

 On hunts Dean thought about how easy it would be to take his gun and turn it around. To end all of the pain. But the mark burning on his arm drove him to keep it pointed anywhere else. It's thirst for blood stronger than his own will. 

 On the most average of days when he was holed up in the bunker, doing research or just having no where else better to be, Dean would open the bathroom cabinet and he thought about how if someone was to take all the pills inside they'd be dead in an hour. But his reflection in the mirror beside him served as a reminder of the demon he would become all over again if he were to die again. 

 The sting of whisky sliding down his throat was nothing in comparison to the sting of the mark of Cain. The sweet taste of pie was nothing in comparison of the sweet taste in his mouth after making a kill. The foul smelling fuel he put in his car every few times he drove it was  _nothing_ in comparison of the foul thoughts sliding through his mind, slick like gasoline. 

 Dean Winchester was not a man. 

He was an empty shell. The only thing ever to fill it now being the hatred that came with the mark. It consumed his every though, dictated his every action. It danced across his vocal cords, manipulating the words he said. Paranoia, fear, anxiety, stress. They were no longer feelings, they were definitions. Definitions of the man once known as Dean Winchester.

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I writing so many sad things? Who knows.
> 
> Read more of my fics at [spn-x-reader](http://spn-x-reader.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> [Reblog link](http://im-the-deanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/118641122137/dean-winchester-fic)


End file.
